Another one bites the dust!
by Sporky92
Summary: ...or 5 times Jim Kirk's shirt was destroyed and the 1 time it just wouldn't give. Spork slash, you know you love it! Rated for language and mentions of sex but nothing too explicit.


**Disclaimer: **Not mine, I make no profit from this story =)

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****Five**

Jim ran for all he was worth, ducking under an outcropping of rocks. The high-pitched whine of a phaser sounded from behind him and the rocks shook slightly with the impact, shaking down rock dust that made him cough.

'_How the hell do I get myself into these situations?' _he thought, screwing his eyes shut against the debris. He moved along the floor of the small nook, grimacing at the increasingly tight fit.

It had begun as a simple mission, but really, they all did. In fact, the easier the missions, the more often they ended up in disaster. Jim couldn't help but wonder if he'd somehow pissed off a higher being of some sort. Not that he was religious or anything, but no one could have this much bad luck! He cursed as he realized that his phaser was low on charge.

"Enterprise to Captain Kirk. Come in, Captain," he flinched as his communicator crackled to life, Spock's voice sounding abnormally loud as it echoed in the small space.

"Spock," he coughed, flipping open the communicator, "I've run into some trouble down here. Looks like the natives weren't too keen on negotiations after all."

"So it would seem," the stoic voice drawled and Jim frowned as he realized that he had just been given the Vulcan equivalent of an 'I-told-you-so.'

"Shove it, Spock!" he snarled.

"To what are you referring Captain? And why would it be in my interest to push it forcibly?" Spock quipped, and Jim would have retorted that he knew exactly to what he was referring had he not been interrupted by the shouts of his pursuers as they ran by his hiding place. He held his breath until they had gone before responding, deciding that he could chew the half-vulcan out later.

"Were McKenna and Dehner able to beam back aboard safely?"

He had ordered the rest of the away team to beam back while he created a distraction. He knew that as Captain, his life should have been top priority but that just wouldn't sit right with him. Plus he could never sleep when he lost men on a mission; he kept thinking of their families that would never see them again. How was he supposed to tell them that their loved ones had died protecting him, when he didn't even have any family to miss him? Seeming to sense the Captain's dark thoughts, Spock replied in a voice that was almost gentle.

"They made it aboard safely, Jim. I would tell you your orders were against regulation…"

"But you know I won't listen," Jim could almost see Spock's eyebrow lifting in a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

"Indeed."

Jim smiled slightly. Spock may be a hard-ass sometimes, but he knew his friend always had his back when it counted.

"So," he spoke casually, almost as if they were conversing over chess, "When do you think you can get me out of here."

"The transporter cannot detect you at present, Captain. You need to move into an open area in order for us to get a lock on you."

Jim sighed, "Yeah, easier said than done. I've got at least ten hostiles ready shoot me on sight out there, Spock." There was silence over the link and he realized that despite his earlier smugness, his First Officer blamed himself for the current predicament. As usual.

"Look Spock, this isn't your fault, alright? I'm the one who insisted on attempting face to face negotiations…"

"I should not have allowed you to beam down without me," came the clipped voice, but Kirk sensed his friend's guilt.

Shaking his head in exasperation he made up his mind.

"Alright Commander, get Chekov on the transporter. He's the best with that thing," he barked his orders quickly, maneuvering himself to the entrance of his hiding spot.

"He is in position. Captain, what are you...?" Spock's confused query sounded over the communicator. Jim grinned, feeling a spike of adrenaline run through him as the slim chance of this plan working became very clear to him.

"I'm making a run for it, wish me luck Spock!" he laughed, before darting out of the nook.

A sudden jolt ran through him and was yanked back towards the cave just as a shot from an enemy weapon sizzled in the air directly in front of him. For a second his frazzled mind was convinced that Spock had suddenly appeared within the small opening through sheer force of will and had tugged him back towards safety. It was ridiculous of course but Jim half expected to turn around and see his friend glaring at him with his trademark 'your-illogical-actions-are-a-danger-to-your-life' look.

What he saw instead was his gold command shirt, snagged on a sharp rock that jutted out from the top of the opening.

'_Really!?'_ He gaped at the damned fabric.

He glanced back and saw one of the natives aiming for another shot and he frowned. He wouldn't have time to untangle himself. He would just have to use all his strength and hope that the cloth would give way. Bracing himself, he gave a mighty lunge…

Jim yelped as the fabric gave way far too easily, almost as if it had been made of paper, and he was thrown face first into the dirt. Grumbling, he scrambled to his feet and darted out into open ground, dodging and ducking to avoid the rain of phaser fire that blazed around him.

The remaining scraps of his shirt fluttered to the ground one by one during his mad dash. As the last one fell away, a familiar tingling ran through his body as the air around him began to glimmer.

His brilliant smile was the last thing the enemy saw before he vanished completely.

**Four**

"Spock, you're sick! You should be resting," Jim crossed his arms and glared at the stubborn Vulcan, who stared passively back at him over the Bunsen burner. Spock gave a small sniffle.

"I assure you, Captain," he intoned, his voice sounding clogged. "I am perfectly capable of performing my duties."

Jim rolled his eyes as Spock turned away abruptly to cough, "Yeah, I can totally see that."

They were in the science laboratories, where Spock was conducting research on some mineral samples they had recently gathered from an alien planet. Unfortunately, the temperatures on the planet's surface had been less than ideal for Vulcan physiology and now Spock seemed to have developed a cold. To make matters worse, the stubborn hybrid refused to see McCoy down in sickbay or take a leave of absence from his duties.

_Well, no one can say he doesn't have a powerful work ethic,_ Jim mused as he watched the other examine one of the samples closely. He noted the olive flush that covered his face, indicating fever.

"You look a little green there, Mr. Spock," he teased, reaching out and pressing his hand to the other man's forehead. He pulled his hand away quickly, as if burned. Spock merely raised an eyebrow at his antics.

"You're burning up!" he exclaimed in mock-horror. Spock _had_ felt hot but, given that Vulcans had a higher body temperature than humans, Kirk wasn't really sure what a fever would feel like.

Spock gave an indignant sniff, picking up a beaker that was labeled 'Hydrochloric Acid' and tipping it slightly to introduce it to one of the samples. "Captain, your attempts at humor are in no way amusing. If you've nothing better to do, then I sugg- s- su-…"

Jim's eyes widened as his First Officer's tirade was cut off by a sudden intake of breath. The Vulcan threw his hands up to shield his face as he sneezed three times in quick succession. The sudden motion caused the beaker he had been holding to drop with a crash back onto the table top. Spock stepped back quickly to avoid any stray droplets but it was unnecessary as the majority of the liquid splashed across Jim's shirt.

"Shit!" he gasped, wrestling the shirt off, careful not to let any of the liquid get onto his face or hands. A sudden burst of white filled his vision and he coughed as he waved his hands through the white powder that now billowed around him and covered his torso. When most of it settled, he saw Spock setting down the now empty container.

"Baking soda?" he asked, with a cough, dusting himself off.

"Indeed," murmured Spock, approaching him to examine his skin "It was imperative that the acid be neutralized before it caused any significant damage. I happened to have some sodium bicarbonate set aside."

Jim's heart stuttered as Spock's warm fingers brushed along his chest checking for chemical burns, a small shiver running up his spine.

"Er, I'm fine," he said quickly, stepping away. Spock blinked before straightening up with a small nod.

"I apologize, Captain. I should have taken your assessment of my health into account," he glanced down and looked rather ashamed, by Vulcan standards anyway.

"It's alright Spock, no harm done…" Jim trailed off, noticing that his shirt had fallen into crumpled pile. He stooped down, grabbing it by the edge and tugging upwards. The cloth lifted and held briefly before disintegrating into a pile of blackened threads.

"Yeah," said Jim after a moment of silence, "I think you should go see Bones now."

"That would be logical, Captain."

**Three**

Jim bounded up onto the transporter pad, Spock and Bones following at a more sedate pace. The latest mission was one of diplomacy. They were to beam down to the surface of Elicoor II (1) on behalf of the federation to meet with the royalty, in the hopes that trade could be established. Their dilithium mines were particularly rich and the federation had specifically entrusted this mission to the Enterprise.

Jim didn't want to brag or anything, but he was getting damn good at this negotiation business. It probably had something to do with his natural charisma and the fact that he had spent most of his youth before the academy sweet talking his way into the beds of various men and women alike. He just saw this as an extension of that, only his sweet talk now took the form of promises of federation protection and the bed usually consisted of trading rights, military support, and/or land for colonization.

He glanced over at the console where a new ensign was waiting to beam them down, looking particularly nervous. She had only just enlisted last week, and Kirk distinctly her face among the other new recruits, mostly due to her unusual name. Briefly, he wondered where Scott was but soon cast the thought aside. If he trusted this girl enough with his precious transporter, then Jim would too.

"Alright there, Sutphin?"

The redhead gave him a nervous smile. "Aye, Captain," she confirmed.

He flashed her a bright grin and turned to Spock, completely missing the look of horror that came upon the ensign's face as she knocked some of the controls with her arm while reaching for her coffee. Wide eyed, she tried to remember the settings that Engineer Scott had locked in for her before he'd left.

"_Simple as they come, lass. Ah've already entered th' coordinates. All that's left fer ye to do is energize them when they step on th' pad. It's foolproof!_ _!" he had assured as he left to go take care of a minor emergency down in the lower decks._

"_Are you sure, Mister Scott?" she called after him, looking at the console as if it were going to bite her. She had signed up for security, not this!_

"_Positive, lass!" his voice echoed down the hall._

She fiddled with the controls, not having the slightest clue as to what she was doing or what each thing controlled. '_There,'_ she thought_, 'that looks like what he set up before… I think'._

"… and their customs specifically dictate that one must always bow at a forty-five degree angle when meeting a superior…"

Jim was only half listening to Spock as he gave him a quick review of the culture, paying more attention to strong line of the other's lips as they moved. He knew he should probably be paying more attention but damn if those lips weren't sexy…

Finally, Bones gave an exaggerated yawn, causing Spock to stop and look at him pointedly.

"Are you done yet?" he griped, ignoring the Vulcan death glare being aimed his way, "We heard all this during the primary briefing. You don't have to bore us to death with it a second time."

"Doctor McCoy, there have been no recorded cases of death by boredom to stardate," the First Officer raised an eyebrow in slight annoyance, "However, the amount of deaths attributed to ignorance of local culture sums to roughly four thousand twenty-two hundred-"

"Ignorance! Now listen here you damned hobgoblin," growled the doctor venomously, his Georgian accent becoming thicker with each word.

"Enough! We're on a schedule here," barked Jim, deciding to stop the confrontation before it really got underway. Bones grumbled something about 'overgrown garden gnomes with bad haircuts,' and Spock inclined his head slightly in apology.

Shaking his head, Jim turned back to the ensign manning the console and nodded his head.

"Energize."

The girl seemed to hesitate before screwing her eyes shut and throwing the switch. Jim thought this was odd but didn't have much time to ponder it before he was standing in front of a welcome party outside a large, grand looking palace. Among them, he noted, were the King, Queen, and several representatives of the court. He took a small breath before addressing them.

"I am Captain James Tiberius Kirk, On behalf of the Federation…" he trailed off, noting the looks on their faces that ranged from amused to scandalized. Confused, he looked back at Spock and Bones for answers and started when he realized that they too were looking at him strangely.

A sudden breeze drifted across the courtyard and Jim shivered. Wait… why was he cold…?

He looked down to discover that his clothes seemed to have been lost somewhere during transport. Silently, he revisited the idea that he had angered a god of some sort.

He looked back up at the gathering and slowly, he bowed at a perfect forty-five degree angle.

"We come in peace."

A few moments later, when he was beamed back aboard to retrieve another set of clothes, he materialized with all but one article of clothing back in place. The piece missing would never be seen again.

It was his shirt, of course.

**Two**

Jim stumbled weakly into the bathroom, leaning heavily on the counter. The blonde stared furiously at himself in the mirror, strikingly blue eyes welling with unshed tears. He clenched them shut tightly as the memory of the day washed over him.

_Jim sprinted to his fallen security escort. Protruding from the young man's chest was what resembled an oversized throwing star, the primary weapon of the planet's natives. He had reacted on instinct upon seeing the Kilngon among the welcoming party of natives and had drawn his phaser in the hopes of protecting the Captain._

'_I'm not worth this,' Jim thought bitterly, watching the life slowly burn out of the recruit's eyes._

It hadn't been his fault, any young soldier would have reacted the same way, yet the natives saw this as a blatant show of hostility and had felled the youth with deadly accuracy. Jim had attempted to stop the blood flow but it was to no avail. He had died, completely bleeding out within minutes.

Jim opened his eyes and let out a shaky breath, allowing them to rest on his once yellow shirt, now brownish in color from the man's blood. He felt ill and immediately wrenched the garment off, stuffing it down the garbage chute in disgust where it would pass through to the incinerator.

He felt his anger drain away, leaving him empty and defeated. He left the fresher, collapsing heavily into his seat at his desk. Leaning forward so that his elbows rested on the surface, he cradled his head in his hands. He stayed like that, mourning the loss of a fine crewman, until he heard the small whoosh of his door being opened. He lifted his head briefly but lowered it again upon seeing that it was just Spock, knowing that he looked weak but unable to bring himself to care at the moment.

His First Officer said nothing. He simply strode to where the Captain sat and, after a moment, rested an inhumanly warm hand upon the man's shoulder. If Jim was surprised at all by the uncharacteristic show of comfort, he didn't reveal it. He simply sat there, leaning into the touch just slightly, and accepted the gesture.

"It was not your fault, Jim. You could not have predicted his actions or the natives' response," came the soothing voice after awhile, emotionless only to the untrained ear.

"Yeah. Doesn't stop it from sucking," came the muffled reply.

The Vulcan did not reply, choosing instead to just be there as an anchor for his captain. Eventually the reports would be written and filed and the letter of condolence to the young man's family dispatched, but for now Jim merely mourned for another life he couldn't save.

**One**

When the side of the cliff crumbled away beneath his feet, Jim couldn't say he was honestly surprised.

After all, he'd traveled intergalactic ally long enough to know that something of the sort was bound to happen no matter where he went. Though, by now, he'd come to the conclusion that there was no heavenly being of any sort doing this to him. He had, after all met Apollo himself (2) and he hadn't exactly been all he was cracked up to be. No, Jim Kirk just chalked it up to the fact that Murphy's Law just happened to have a ridiculously strong hold over the crew of the Enterprise, or more specifically, a ridiculously strong hold on him.

So, when the tremors suddenly began and dislodged the rock and dirt that he had just happened to be examining the landscape from, he wasn't taken aback at all. Hell, part of him was expecting it. He turns and caught barely a glimpse of the shocked faces of his away team before he was toppling backwards over the edge.

'_I'm going to die…' _his eyes slipped shut in acceptance.

"JIM!"

His eyes snapped open when his descent was abruptly halted. There above him, with the front of his shirt fisted in his hand, was Spock. He heard the relieved murmurs of Sulu and Rand (as well as the mutterings of Bones') approaching the edge and soon he could see them behind Spock, the helmsman and the doctor kneeling to help Spock pull him back up.

But his First Officer didn't seem to acknowledge their presence at all. Never before had Jim seen the Vulcan this expressive, his eyes wide in fear and anguish and his body trembling. Kirk realized that the situation had probably dug up painful memories for Spock of his mother. He felt a pang of sympathy for the Vulcan and a twinge of guilt that he hadn't been more careful.

A sudden ripping noise filled the air and blue eyes met black as a mutual understanding dawned. Spock's other arm shot out a few milliseconds too late and Jim's shirt tore completely away and he was once again plummeting.

Had he not been about to die, he might have laughed. Really, this was just too fucking typical. A sudden roar sounded above him and suddenly there were a pair of powerful arms encircling his torso and once again his fall was halted. His first officer clutched him to his chest and Jim could feel the intense heat of his body seeping into his skin. Spock's shaky breath puffed over his ear and he circled his arms around the Vulcan's neck in relief.

"Are you out of your Vulcan mind! Jim, how the hell do you manage to get yourself into these situations!?" came a surly growl and Jim glanced up. Bones and Sulu both had a hold of the back of Spock's science officer uniform. They were both straining with the effort of keeping the two men from plunging to their deaths. "Dammit, I'm a doctor, not a suspension cable!" Bones huffed as both he and the helmsman began hoisting the two back up.

Jim laughed breathlessly until a sudden thought struck him. "Hey!" he cried indignantly, "How come Spock's shirt can withstand the weight of both of us, and mine couldn't even hold me!" Bones rolled his eyes and Sulu chuckled, and Jim was sure that he felt a small twitch of Spock's lips against his shoulder.

And if anyone noticed the reluctance with which Spock finally released Jim from his embrace, no one said a word.

**And that one time…**

Despite his current state of arousal, Jim had to stop for a moment when he felt his wrists being tied and then securely fastened to the headboard. He glanced up dubiously at Spock, whose eyes glinted back at him mischievously, a small smirk present on his usually stoic face.

Kirk had been surprised to find that the usually straight-laced Vulcan made a surprisingly passionate and sometimes even playful bedmate. He had pinned his First as more of a no-nonsense, we shall engage in intercourse on a rigid and most logical schedule which I have designed to fit in seamlessly to our daily work and living routines, kind of guy. What he had not expected was a sexual appetite nearly on par with his own and an occasional fiendish streak when it came to sex. This coupled with a fierce possessiveness never failed to leave Jim breathless and falling in love over and over again.

And it wasn't the fact that he was being tied up at the moment that bothered Jim, rather it was the fact that his lover, someone who breathed logic as if it was air, was using what was quite possibly the flimsiest piece of material know to man. More specifically (you guessed it), his shirt.

"Uh, Spock? Not that I don't find this extremely hot, but don't you think that you should have used something a little stronger?" Jim asked curiously, if a little breathlessly, while the Vulcan trailed his lips hotly over the humans jaw. He gave tug to emphasize his point, expecting his hands to fall away easily. His eyes widened as the cloth held firm. Another tug, this one more forceful, yielded the same result.

'_Well, I'll be damned,'_ he thought incredulously. He glanced down at Spock who looked particularly amused and he had a feeling that the man had had a very interesting discussion with the quality control folks of the company that supplied uniforms to Starfleet. He had a feeling that a certain incident involving a cliff may have contributed but he found that, at the moment, he really didn't care.

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**Authors Notes:**

**(1)** Yes it's a small Star Ocean reference, so sue me =P

**(2) **Reference to the Original Series episode "Who Mourns for Adonais?"

Whew! Alrighty =) there it is for my first Star Trek slash fiction =P Hope I did well, and please review!


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